


Curiousity

by ccc



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: I am shameless, M/M, Nipple Piercing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 06:12:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6226996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccc/pseuds/ccc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“John, you have a nipple piercing.”<br/>John almost laughed at the statement. He felt slightly pleased to have actually shocked the man.<br/>“Sherlock, if you want that cheese you’re going to have to let me get dressed.” John replied, turning away to find the shirt he wanted.<br/>“Yes, of course.”<br/>Sherlock took a step forwards as John rummaged through his drawers. John could almost feel Sherlock thinking.<br/>“Sherlock.”<br/>“Hm?”<br/>“Why are you still here?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curiousity

**Author's Note:**

> IDK whether to rate this as mature or explicit but whatever  
> i havent written in about three years so HERE GOES NOTHIN

John exited the bathroom almost silently, letting a rush of steam out with him. His towel was firmly wrapped above his hips, the worn white material coming down to just below his knees. Sherlock was hunched over his laptop on the edge of the sofa, his shoulders rigid with the tension that seemed to only be present when he was deep in thought.  
John continued up the stairs as Sherlock hammered away on his keyboard (or was it John’s? He probably shouldn’t care at this point) with increasing volume. John could still hear him typing with his bedroom door firmly shut. The early morning sunlight in the room reflected on the beads of water still clinging to John’s shoulders.  
John was walking to his chest of drawers to retrieve todays outfit when he heard the clatter of feet on the stairs leading to his room. He braced himself momentarily before realizing it was most definitely Sherlock coming to make some ridiculous demand. He relaxed, crossed his arms over his chest and turned to face the door.  
“John! I need you to go to the shops. There’s this brand of cheese…”  
Sherlock trailed off as his gaze lowered from Johns raised eyebrow to his chest. John felt his face turn red as Sherlock fixed on him with intense- if not a bit frightening- scrutiny.  
“John, you have a nipple piercing.”  
John almost laughed at the statement. He felt slightly pleased to have actually shocked the man.  
“Sherlock, if you want that cheese you’re going to have to let me get dressed.” John replied, turning away to find the shirt he wanted.  
“Yes, of course.”  
Sherlock took a step forwards as John rummaged through his drawers. John could almost feel Sherlock thinking.  
“Sherlock.”  
“Hm?”  
“Why are you still here?”  
Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Johns crouching form, turned, and promptly left the room. 

**

“John, take off your shirt for me.”  
John looked up from his book, and glared at Sherlock, who was standing next to the sofa, having discarded his most recent experiment. He still in his dressing gown, despite it now being- John glanced at his watch - two in the afternoon. This was most definitely due to the lack of clients they’d been experiencing in the last few days.  
“No? Its bad enough living beside your experiments, I don’t want to become one.” John returned to his book. However, Sherlock now had his attention, and he couldn’t return to his novel.  
“John, I’m bored.” Sherlock said as he began pacing the living room.  
“What do you want me naked for anyway.” John asked after a few minutes of pacing.  
“Not naked, just shirtless. Please.” Sherlock tagged on the ‘please’ as an after thought, which amused John to no end. Sherlock being civil was a clear sign of desperation.  
“Right. But no burns, no cuts, and no hitting me with that bloody riding crop or whatever else you have hidden around here.” He replied after a brief consideration. Neither of them really had anything better to do.  
Sherlock’s facial expression went from petulant toddler to calculating in a matter of seconds.  
“Of course John. Would you like a safe word as well?” he asked, mockingly.  
John snorted a laugh in response, and stood up from his chair, leaving the book on the arm. He stripped off his plaid shirt and folded it neatly, leaving it beside his book.  
“Tell me about your piercing.” Sherlock said as he took a few steps towards John.  
John then remembered the incident the other week, when Sherlock saw him shirtless. His fascination with the piercing hadn’t gone away then. This shouldn’t surprise him of course. Sherlock had an irritating (if not somewhat fascinating) tendency to cling on to details he finds unusual.  
“I got it with some mates from school when I was…eighteen or nineteen, I can’t remember. We were drunk; it seemed like a funny idea. Cheaper than a tattoo and probably less painful.” John could feel himself flushing under Sherlock’s eyes. He tilted his head, observing John carefully.  
“No infection, no reaction to the metal?” he enquired.  
“Uh, no.”  
“Can I touch it?” Sherlock said as he came closer to John, reminding him of the height difference as Sherlock looked down on him.  
“Right. I, uhm, don’t see why not.” John looked down, but Sherlock could still see the faint pink blush on his ears and back of his neck.  
Sherlock slid his hands up John’s stomach, brushing past the slight trail of hair on his navel to his chest, the skin there slightly paler than John’s arms. He’d retained his tan from Afghanistan nicely; his skin the sort of bronze that Sherlock could never attain, no matter how much time he spent in the sun. His hands slid almost silently across the smooth plane of John’s muscled chest, before his right hand caught on the small bar of metal. John inhaled sharply- he was enjoying this, Sherlock noted absentmindedly.  
He toyed with the barbell, and found that light tugs caused John to breathe far more harshly, his chest rising up into Sherlock’s hands and then sinking down. Sherlock continued his ministrations for a few minutes, his left hand slowly petting John’s other pectoral as his right twisted and pulled at John’s now fully erect nipple.  
“Sherlock.” John said, his voice rough.  
Sherlock looked up and raised an eyebrow at him inquisitively, his fingers still tugging at John. John’s mouth was slightly open and his pupils were dilated. Sherlock knew if he were to look down, John’s hideously sensible trousers would be covering an erection.  
“I need to… to sit down.” John said as Sherlock raked his short nails down from Johns sternum to his stomach. The muscles twitched delicately under his palms as he did so.  
Sherlock removed his hands from John’s now reddened torso and sat himself down on the sofa. John followed him, and sat with his back against the arm of the sofa, and his legs extended to the opposite end where Sherlock was sitting. Sherlock watched as John caught his breath, his eyes closed. The afternoon sunlight was pouring through the opened windows, and Sherlock could hear traffic and talking from the streets outside.  
After a few minutes John opened his eyes.  
“Can we resume now?” Sherlock asked, sensing that John had had enough time to recover.  
John coughed out a laugh.  
“Yes, if we must.” He said it as if this was a hardship to him- of course Sherlock could tell he was aroused and finding the whole thing pleasurable.  
Sherlock sat up on his knees and straddled John’s thighs. He lifted John’s arms above his head. John crossed them and rested his head on them, leaving his chest very much exposed. Sherlock trailed his fingers across John’s neck, watching as the man tensed and relaxed beneath him. He left one hand on John’s chest as he took two of his fingers into his mouth. He felt John’s legs tense underneath him as he got his fingers suitably wet. Perhaps he did tease slightly, thrusting his fingers in and out of his mouth and gazing down at John with half-closed eyes. It seemed to work, as John swallowed and licked his lips, the flush on his cheeks returning.  
Sherlock took his now damp fingers and traced circles on John’s pierced nipple, gently and slowly, letting himself enjoy the pleasured gasps that John was emitting. He considered what to do next- John was relatively aroused, but Sherlock would prefer him desperate. He smiled to himself as John let out a low moan when he increased the pressure of his fingers.  
John watched as Sherlock dipped his head down to meet his chest. His damp fingers left his nipple, only to be replaced with his hot mouth. John sighed softly as Sherlock's mobile tongue toyed with his piercing. Sherlock’s other hand was gently teasing John’s other nipple. John tried to spread his legs under Sherlock, but only get them so far apart with the other mans knees pressing in from either side. He was grasping onto his opposite elbows, making the muscles in his arms tighten as he tensed and strained to keep still.  
Sherlock could see the frustration John felt in the lines that creased his forehead, and by the way his hips had began rocking upwards. Sherlock smiled against John’s chest, and started to use his teeth on John.  
“Sh-shit” John stammered and Sherlock bit down harder.  
Sherlock was being ridiculously thorough- although John probably should have expected no less. He reached down with one hand and grasped Sherlock by his dark curls. John tugged him up, grip faltering slightly when he saw Sherlock’s full lips moist and slightly opened.  
“Enough, Sherlock.” John’s voice was far too shaky for the command to sound like anything but begging.  
Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting for John’s next move. The hands in his hair began to push him downwards. The message was quite clear, even by John’s standards. He undid John’s jeans and waited for him to lift his hips so as to take them off all together. Once John’s underwear was thrown aside, Sherlock leant back onto his knees, his eyes skimming over John’s erection, his hips, and his thighs. Sherlock shuffled down his legs slightly, positioning himself so he was sitting with his legs either side of John’s shins.  
“John, are you sure this is okay?” Sherlock asked.  
“Uh, yeah. As if I’d let you get this far without wanting…”  
“Wanting what?”  
Sherlock stared for him at a moment, taking in the flush on his cheeks and chest, the sweat beading on his brow, the thick scar tissue on his shoulder-  
“This. You. Sherlock, please.” John said, swallowing. “The way you look at me, I can’t-”  
Sherlock blinked twice, dragging himself back to the moment. He bent down and took John into his mouth, silencing him until he started to suck lightly. John started to moan, the noises far too sweet and soft for Sherlock to remain in control. He gripped the base of John’s penis and began to move his head rhythmically, speeding up when John began to thrust lightly into his mouth. The pre-come on his tongue was salty-bitter and overwhelmingly male, and he couldn’t help but groan slightly at the taste, the thought of John in his mouth, hot and desperate beneath him.  
“Oh God, Sherlock please, you’re just so fucking gorgeous-”  
Sherlock hummed a laugh at John’s compliment, cutting the man off and causing him to grip Sherlock’s hair with his hands.  
“Please Sherlock, faster.” John said, breathlessly.  
Sherlock took John further into his throat, limiting his air supply and allowing for John’s deeper thrusts.  
Sherlock pulled off as John became more desperate, wrapping his hand firmly around John’s penis and moving upwards until his mouth was level with John’s piercing.  
“Please, please.” John groaned as Sherlock jerked him off using the stroke he imagined the John using on himself, slightly rough and fast. John moaned and thrust up into Sherlock’s grip as he pressed his open mouth onto John’s nipple, swirling his tongue around the metal. He sucked roughly then bit down hard, and John arched his back, his body tensing as his came onto his own stomach, moaning as his penis twitched in Sherlock’s hand.  
Sherlock listened as his heavy breaths slowed and became shallower, his head still pressed to John’s chest. He could here his heart rate slowing down in tandem to his breathing, the steady thud mesmerizing him.  
“Sherlock. Do you want me to…?” John said after a few minutes.  
“Return the favour?” Sherlock replied, arching an eyebrow.  
“Yeah. If you want.”  
Sherlock raised his head and looked into John’s eyes, watching him blink at him…nervously. He smiled at John’s apprehension (still, even after months of flirting and a blowjob) and leaned in to kiss him. It began innocently, allowing John to adjust, and then became impassioned as John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s slim body, bringing them closer together. He could feel Sherlock’s cock hard against his thigh, and couldn’t help but marvel at the mans control. His tongue was hot in John’s mouth, his lips were soft and soon swollen and John pressed harder against him. John soon reached down and undid Sherlock’s dressing gown, allowing it to slip off his pale shoulders into a puddle on the floor next to the sofa. He slid his hands between stroking up from Sherlock’s slender waist to his chest, then his shoulders. He firmly pushed Sherlock away from him. Sherlock looked at him in confusion before John reached down and wrapped his hand around Sherlock’s cock. Sherlock swallowed and twitched in John’s hand.  
“Is this okay?” John asked.  
“It’s fine. It’s great. Please, go ahead.” Sherlock said impatiently, narrowing his eyes as John laughed at his eagerness.  
John touched him gently at first, spreading the pre-come at the tip of Sherlock’s penis down the shaft, lightly stroking his way back up and brushing the head with the calluses on his fingers. Sherlock tried to maintain some level of control, but his breathing rate had gone up and he was rocking his hips up gently into John’s touch. John watched him lick his lips and swallow, then close his eyes and moan as John gripped him harder and began to stroke him more roughly, letting Sherlock feel his relatively impressive grip strength. Sherlock was now leaking steadily, thrusting up desperately into John’s beautiful hand, so tanned and strong and perfect.  
“Sherlock, open your eyes.” John said, his voice low and quiet.  
Sherlock did as he was told, looking up into John’s face, allowing him to see the way his pupils were blown and the blush in his cheeks. John was looking at him intently, less doctor-John now and more soldier-John, his gaze almost intimidating, something that Sherlock would never admit to thinking. John gripped him harder as Sherlock let out a low moan at the expression on his face. He was unable to focus as John sped up ever so slightly, pressing his against the head of Sherlock’s penis lightly on every up stroke.  
“Please, John, faster.” Sherlock said desperately, unable to stop the movement of his hips or the moans that John seemed to be enjoying so much-  
John sped up, using the stroke that he knew to be effective, the one he’d use on himself in his bedroom upstairs, thinking about Sherlock’s perfect mouth or gorgeous body or the way he’d look at John so intently when he’d said something remotely intelligent. Sherlock whimpered at his touch and grabbed onto John’s shoulders, his eyes still open. He was staring at John’s eyes, but not focusing, too overwhelmed from what was happening to him. John gripped even harder, and Sherlock’s expression went from pleasure to pained bliss as he came over both their stomachs, still rocking slightly into John’s fist.  
Sherlock went limp and relaxed onto John’s body, his heartbeat thrumming quickly between the two of them. He listened to it slow down absentmindedly before opening his eyes and looking up at John, who was carding his fingers through Sherlock’s now slightly sweat-damp curls.  
“You okay?” John asked, realising Sherlock was staring up at him.  
“Yes. Although I am starting to feel incredibly uncomfortable.” Sherlock replied, now very conscious of the drying semen between them.  
“Right. We best go shower.”  
“Indeed. Unless you’d allow me to record the rate at which-”  
“Get up Sherlock.” John said sternly, conscious of Sherlock’s overwhelming curiosity, and knowing that if he allowed any more experiments, they would never leave the flat.  
Although as Sherlock climbed off him and sauntered off to the bathroom, walking like he knew John would be staring at his arse, he couldn’t help but reconsider.


End file.
